Halloween is Hard

For survivors of domestic violence, Halloween is often a uniquely dangerous and highly triggering time. While many celebrate the holiday as lighthearted fun, the central themes of the night can overlap heavily with the real-world trauma of abuse, surveillance, and control.

Halloween is the one night of the year where hiding one's identity behind a mask is socially normalized. For a survivor, this anonymity increases vulnerability, as an abuser or stalker can easily approach a home or follow someone without drawing suspicion.

On one particular Halloween night, children were at my door with some parents standing behind them.  A few adults, who I assumed were the children’s parents, were in costumes.  When I finished handing out the treats to the trick or treaters, a tall figure in the back of the group ripped off his rubber Nixon mask and laughed. I recognized that laugh even before I processed his facial features.  It was my ex husband - still trying to invoke as much fear in me as possible.  I froze. 

My restraining order was just a piece of paper that any sociopath would ignore. 

Ever since that night, I recognize and realize how dangerous Halloween is for abuse survivors who have left their perpetrator.  It’s not a fun holiday of any sort. It can be dangerous in my reality.

The core tradition of trick-or-treating requires opening the door to strangers repeatedly. When would anyone in their right mind open their door at night to strangers? For survivors—especially those who have moved to escape a perpetrator—this constant, unpredictable knocking can induce severe hypervigilance, mimicking the fear of an abuser finding their new residence.

I hate Halloween.

The abundance of fake weapons, simulated blood, screaming, and gore can be deeply distressing. While others see a "harmless scare," a survivor's brain can struggle to distinguish simulated threats from the real physical violence they have previously endured.  It is truly hellish for us survivors of domestic violence.

So for so many years…..I bunker down in the dark, pretending no one was home….wherever I live.  I do not go to costume parties.  Too triggering.  When my sons were children there was joy and laughter in creating their costumes, viewing all their candy and taking inventory, etc.  

My abuser showed me that even the most innocent of nights can be unsafe.  And that is a lesson that will remain with me forever.  It’s something every abuse survivor needs to recognize.

And as we close out the month of October, domestic violence awareness month, I warn all my fellow survivors of the potential risk there is when we open our doors to strangers.  Especially to those who are masked.

Stay safe.

Exposing the Abuse Had Consequences

 The moment a victim of abuse decides to leave, or starts speaking up, is often the most dangerous time in an abusive relationship.

Abusive spouses often view a partner seeking to leave - as an act of revenge. That is because the abuser's core mindset is built on power, control, and entitlement rather than equality or accountability. And to escape abuse, you must trust the one person your abuser has convinced you not to:  yourself.

When an abuser senses they are losing power and control, they frequently escalate their behavior to reassert dominance. This phenomenon is a well-documented pattern in domestic violence, known as the escalation of risk or the separation spike.

Toward the end of my abusive marriage, almost at the 20 year mark, I started to speak up and tell some people of the violence I endured. This was even before I made it to a domestic violence shelter. I began to have enough. My abuser kept me trapped by shame and silenced by fear. Punishing a victim for exposing abuse is a calculated tactic designed to enforce silence, maintain control, and protect the abuser's reputation. This behavior is a form of retaliation and coercive control. And it is brutal.

During those last two years of living with an abusive husband, I started sharing my story of surviving the domestic violence. Bruised and battered, I remember a night I went to my neighbor's house for safety. Just so you know, never ask a woman "why did you stay"....because that was the beginning of the end. As soon as my husband's secret was out (I later found out that most people suspected the abuse), everything escalated.

Abuse thrives in silence.  Shame is used to keep you trapped in the relationship and fear is used to keep you quiet. Abusers will teach you that there are severe consequences if you don’t stay silent.  When I started telling people what my husband did to me, the abuse escalated in every way possible.

When the veil of secrecy is threatened, abusers often deploy specific strategic responses. This can include overt threats of physical violence, making their victim suffer all sorts of consequences or targeting things the survivor cares about, such as threatening to harm pets or alienate children. When a survivor begins disclosing abuse, abusers frequently escalate their tactics to punish, silence, and regain power over the victim. This reaction is a documented phenomenon rooted in the abuser's need for total control and fear of exposure.

At one point, it was time for my two sons to get ready for sleep away camp again, Camp Wayne for Boys. They needed some special camp clothing to be ordered. Not having access to our marital accounts, I had to ask my husband for a check - to be sent to "Wolf" uniform company with the camp clothing my sons wanted. My husband told me to get a bank check for the order. He handed me five $100 bills. I thought it was unusual, but it was my only option - and God forbid you question the master.

I waited on line in the Westchester County bank for a few minutes. Finally, it was my turn at the counter. I handed the teller the cash and asked for a bank check.

BAM!

Within seconds, an alarm went off- screeching. Metal bars came down from the ceiling with a swift clang. I was caged. I had no idea what was going on as the police officers swept in, guns raised and aimed at me! I was handcuffed and placed in the back of a police car. I couldn't find my handbag, I didn't even know what was happening. I remember the maroon vinyl of the police car, the lack of handles in the rear seat I was literally thrown into. And no one read me my rights. It was not like Law and Order.

I must have been crying - I was terrified. I kept asking what happened, but the two officers in the front of the car did not answer me. I must have continued to cry....as they led me into the police station jail. I still had my handcuffs on.

As I was told to stand against a dirty grey wall with measurements on it, my photo was taken. Turn. Another photo snapped. My handcuffs removed for fingerprinting.

Finally, the officer fingerprinting me told me why I was arrested. For passing of counterfeit bills. I told them I was unaware of it - that I never do that, that it was a mistake. I asked to call someone - and stupid me, called my husband. When he answered the phone, I was a wreck. And I still hear his evil laugh in my mind. I told him what happened and he said, "I know." He also told me that he'd be leaving me there for a while until I learned. I asked him, "Learn what?" and the line went dead. He set me up. Owning Foodirect in the South Bronx Hunts Point Market, his business was mostly cash. And his associates were not the most upstanding of citizens.

Not long after this incident, my abuser sought to teach me another lesson.  When the police were called to my home for a domestic violence situation, I told the officer about some illegal dealings of my then husband.  I was never told I could press charges.  The North Castle police officer merely said he was not there to resolve marital disputes.  It didn’t matter that I was visibly bruised. The officer smirked and left my home, leaving me to deal with my abuser alone.

Two days later, as I was driving my Lexus 400 LS, I heard a strange noise in the front end of the car.  I drove directly to Lexus of Larchmont, NY, left my car there and drove home in a loaner car.  I wasn’t in my house more than 10 minutes when the phone rang.  The manager of the dealership called me to tell me he had never seen anything like this : a live rat was trapped in my car!

My son, Jared,was home when I received this call.  I repeated what the Lexus manager told me.  Jared then told me that he saw the live rat in the garage the night before…his father brought the rat home from work in a cage.

As I put the pieces together, I realized the message my abusive husband was relaying by putting the rat in my car.

I did finally decide that it was more dangerous to stay with him than to leave. He progressed into brainwashing my sons against me. And more of every other type of abuse he could muster up. I filed for divorce for the third time ( he had threatened me and terrorized me into dropping the law suits the two prior times), he protested it, I had trials....divorce, custody, finances.

Since he initially protested the divorce, threatening my death as well as loss of my children who were teens, my divorce was denied - even with over 200 pages of documented hospital records exhibiting the abuse. At the time, New York was a fault state and he had too many people in his pocket. He got to the judge. And on the day the initial divorce decree was denied (I obtained a divorce almost a decade later after going through more years of court and appeals- on the grounds of cruel and inhuman treatment), I remember driving home from Princeton, NJ, to West Orange when my lawyer called me with the news.

He said my divorce was denied. JHO Scancarelli (who has since died and now resides in hell) denied my divorce, even through excruciating testimony of domestic violence and several key witnesses to the abuse. I laughed as attorney Joel Bender repeated his news. What kind of joke was this? But it was true. 

Shaking as I drove, I was approximately 20 minutes from home when I received another phone call. This time it was the West Orange police station. The officer identified himself on the call and told me I had a choice....I could either turn myself in or they would come to my West Orange home and arrest me for transport to the South Bronx in New York.

Yes, this sounds like an incredible nightmare. My nightmares always happened when I was awake.

I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. He then explained the warrant that was out for my arrest because my husband feared for his life!

If you know me, you know this was absurd abuse of the system again. If you know Robert Levine, you know he was capable of this and so much more.

I arrived home to find the police car waiting for me in the driveway. I was transported to the South Bronx. This time, again no one read me my rights - but at least I wasn't handcuffed. I was not as shocked as I was the first time Robert orchestrated my arrest. That's who he is....in fact, he told me during my divorce, that if I showed up at either of my sons' high school graduations, I would be arrested. He said he had a North Castle police officer in his pocket to do it.

Have you ever been to the South Bronx? You don't want to go there. The officer driving me to the precinct in Hunts Point told me that they had jurisdiction over me because Robert Levine contacted the South Bronx precinct near where his Foodirect headquarters were located. Another move that was to be expected. Why have me jailed in Westchester or NJ when he could manipulate it so I'm in the worst place in NY?  

So, I was taken to this filthy precinct that looked nothing like what you see on television. In reality it was so much worse. The officer there told me to sit as he filled out paper work. Since I pretty much knew the drill from my first orchestrated arrest, I waited thinking I was going to be fingerprinted and photographed again. Not this time, though. I was merely placed in a filthy jail cell.

The officer kept telling me to sit down. I was pacing. And the metal bench along the cell's wall was disgusting. I would not sit down. Not for the three hours that they held me there in that cell. I was able to make a phonecall and a friend came to get me with a lawyer.

There was a hearing the next day. My lawyer was brilliant. He presented one piece of evidence to the judge and that case was dismissed. What was so powerful as to end this dead in it's tracks?

Something the lawyer had seen on my phone. A direct message my husband had sent me. It read, "LOL." My attorney addressed the court with one question - what kind of man is fearful for his life and sends the person a message of LOL?

The court was able to see the big picture. An abuser who could no longer use his fists was using every other means possible to continue the abuse. My children were used, jail, finances stripped from me, emotional turmoil and threats continued.

How does my God let this kind of thing happen? Why are battered mothers losing custody, and continuously trying to survive unending abuse?

No one tells victims that after they leave the abuser, post separation abuse is a thing. I wake up each morning with the consequences of exposing my personal terrorist.  My sons are gone from my life, brainwashed, manipulated, bought with money and influenced by their father daily.  They worship wealth over God. They chose lavish lifestyles over me, their mother.  I have rarely only heard from them when they wished to hurt me deeply. I think losing them wasn’t the worst of it, though. Not even the fact that they won’t let my grandchildren know I exist.  What is the worse part of all is seeing how much they turned into their abusive father. 

So, I talk to God about all these horrific consequences I live with. Some might consider this praying.  My ex not only hid and stole what was legally mine financially as well as most of my belongings…he stole the souls and morals of his own children.  A means to his end. He alienated them from me as my punishment. And I gave up trying to expose all the lies he told my sons in the process.

What people call "moving on" is rebuilding a life from damage you did not create.  It's carrying pain you never asked for, and healing from wounds the person who caused them still pretends never happened.  The trauma will forever reside in my mind and body.  It doesn't go away.  Nor do so many memories I wish I could forget.  Some people will say, "She's still talking about the abuse and betrayal, so she hasn't moved on."  

No. Talking about it IS moving on.

My true healing is in my writing.  My conversations.  And it started when I stopped carrying it in silence.  And if my voice feels "too loud" now...imagine how much I endured quietly.

I'm still in survival mode, though. With each day comes a day of mourning the family I had yearned for.  With the sons I raised.  Who erased me. And chose to model their lives after a father who was diagnosed as being a sociopath and morally bankrupt.

So, every morning my sons are not in my life…is another day of being abused.  Sometimes in life, the nightmare is when you are awake. Consequences of exposing your abuser can be horrific. But then again, not exposing the abuser can literally end up with their victim’s death.  I started feeling safer not when I left to stay at the shelters, but when I started exposing all that I had survived.

When I told the world what a monster I had lived with, it gave me a sense of security I had never known before. Disclosure was and is empowering.  But most of all, it is also a coping mechanism.  A way to purge and release.  If I don't share my story, all of it dies with me.  And that is exactly what my ex-husband and adult alienated sons are hoping for. Another vital purpose is to help others here.  I hope my story exposed will be someone else's survival guide, should they need it.  What I wish I knew before....

To neutralize the disclosure, the abuser may preemptively lie to friends, family, or professional networks. They may use third parties (proxies) to harass, spy on, or isolate the survivor. They especially use their own children as weapons. They will destroy you financially when you try to leave them. The tactics are endless.  And no one prepared me for any of it.

Women in abusive relationships need support and understanding – not judgement. Leaving can be the most dangerous time for a woman. Careful planning is important because abusers can become more violent and controlling. 

And what do I talk to God about?

Why my ex husband is still walking this earth, when the world would be so much better without him. And why are my sons following in his footsteps? 

Domestic Violence Awareness - The Tragic Impression

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. Take to heart these instructions with which I charge you this day. Impress them upon your children...."

The words above are sacred to me.  They form a prayer. And today, I realize more than ever, the importance of impressing certain knowledge and "instructions" on our children.  I also have experienced the result and tragedy of what occurs when there is a lack of impression....and instruction is sabotaged.  When the wrong impression is left it remains as a stain for the future.

No matter how many times I tried to impress values, morals etc. on my two sons...their father counter parented with his own teachings.  No matter how much I would tell them not to be like their father in so many ways, they saw him as a role model.  No matter how much I told them how to treat others (and how not to), they grew up thinking abuse was acceptable.  Partially because of what they saw me live with - and I have to live with that.  All I can say now, after years of therapy, is that resources back then for domestic violence victims were practically non-existent.  I had no family support of any kind, nor financial access to take my sons and leave my abusive spouse.

I wonder how much different my life would be, and the lives of my sons, if their education throughout the public school system of Byram Hills would have included educating children about domestic violence.  Located in the Bedford-Armonk community in Westchester County, New York, I realize that back in the 1990's there were no workshops nor lectures for our children regarding the setting of boundaries - physical, emotional, nor psychological boundaries.  If children were raised in a violent and controlling environment, how would they know any different?   How would they know how wrong that is? 

Preventing abuse requires teaching both respect and self-worth to the next generation. And showing them a simple compass of right and wrong. Abuse is always wrong.

What my sons were witness to during their youths...no child should have to see.  As a victim of domestic violence, I did the best I could to protect them.  But when their father would sporadically hit me, it wasn't like I could ask him to take it to another room.  Many times, most times - my children were present.

Schools have guidance counselors and in high school, many are focused on careers and furthering education.  I hope things are different than they were years ago - and the men and women trained to guide our children through their years also look for signs when something may be a bit off.  I can only wish my sons' guidance counselor had heard me when I reached out to him about what was going on in our home. This high school professional was too intimidated by my ex-husband.  Obviously untrained in the fields of parental alienation and domestic violence, the guidance counselor did not want to get involved with my sons' personal lives.  Should he have taken that extra step, I believe it would certainly have made a difference today.     

My sons did not know differently.  Not even when I told them.  They did not want to believe that the things they saw were wrong, bad....and against the law.

The last February I was to spend in that Bedford house.... My younger son found me unconscious on the marble floor of our master bathroom.  I remember the cold of the hard floor on my cheek as I awoke to stare up at a terrified face of a 14-year-old - my son.  Through moist eyes, he asked me if I was okay.  Strained, my voice left my throat long enough to tell him I wasn't okay.  I did not tell him what I thought - I thought I was dying. I had to close my eyes.  I could not look at the raw fear in my son's face. I felt the cool water of a washcloth on my forehead as my son swept it across my bruised skin.  Had I taught him to do that? I wondered.  Sadness in my heart overcame the pain I felt in my bones.

Seconds later, I heard his father yelling.  He was screaming for my son to get away from me and leave me alone.  Now, my child began to cry ...and ran out of the bathroom, leaving me on that ice-cold rock-hard marble floor.  I heard his father tell him that I had to "learn a lesson."  And then it all went black again until I awoke hours later.

I had a concussion, I'm sure.  The nausea was overwhelming.  As soon as I was able to, I phoned a neighbor for help.

And I will never forget the face I saw that time I opened my eyes as I lay helpless on a marble floor.

Neither of my children would speak of the violence or injuries they saw.  My older son would remain quiet, withdrawn, and come to idolize his father.  He saw his father as being all powerful, strong, and in control of our lives.  I have come to realize there is a term for this - identification with the aggressor.  My younger son, well he always remained in pure fear of his father.  That pretty much shaped his life. As it does today. He always tries to get his father's approval, no matter what. Especially when it comes to hurting me, his mother.

Both of my sons attended Hebrew school, religious instruction.  Had it not been for a Rabbi intervening in my cycle of abuse, I may not have lived to tell of these events.  I guess he picked up on my hints and messages, as I was too petrified to just come out with it - the hell I lived in.  This brave Rabbi handed me a piece of paper.  The heading read, "The Cycle of Abuse."  I saved it.  I still have that piece of paper today.  And I showed it to my sons when I was given it two decades ago.  But it was too late.

The only way to end the abuse, I thought, was to get a divorce.

Abusive spouses often view a partner seeking legal action as an act of revenge because the abuser's core mindset is built on power, control, and entitlement rather than equality or accountability.

When my sons saw their father arrested for domestic violence and illegal weapons, they blamed me for getting him in trouble.

When my ex hurt me in any way, my sons told me it was my own fault.

When I sought protection and safety in a court of law, my ex told my sons I was just doing it to break up our family and to punish him.

When I started blogging, writing to preserve my sanity, my ex told my sons that it was to destroy the three of them.  It most certainly is not.  I would hope that someone reads this and processes it themselves.  So my past won't be someone else's future.

I started standing up for myself.  And that is one thing a narcissistic abuser does not like.  My ex-husband sought to hurt me via post separation abuse.  My sons had already been programmed to believe that what they saw was a normalcy that did not warrant criticism - or correction.  It was all too late.

With reflections of my ex-husband’s behaviors beginning to be exhibited in those of his sons, I failed.  I could not fight the lessons he taught our sons, no matter how heartfelt my words would be.  Power was important to all of them.  Things were more important than morals.  Money was all they worshipped.  Their father taught them that it was not necessary to respect their mother.  So now I wonder how they treat the women in their adult lives.  And it scares me.

I filed for divorce - again and the last of the 3 times.  I followed through with it.  The only time my sons would have us all together again...would be in a courtroom.

Whatever they saw, and whatever they remember...my children were transformed by each event and interaction in our lives.  Should educators in the school system have had workshops in teaching and warning of teenage dating violence, cycles of abuse, etc.  it would only have given us a chance to escape the confinements of our secrets.  There is no turning back, but perhaps this message can be given to educational advisors today.  It may just make a difference in someone's life.

I will live with guilt forever. Guilt for what my sons saw and learned. Guilt for who their father is. No matter how much therapy I seek.  I have been told over and over again - there was nothing I could do.  When a psychopath is bent on destruction, he is relentless.  The father of my children still tries to destroy me and "teach me a lesson."  He once even started a $10million lawsuit - about this blog.  When I said I would share the worst of what he did (I haven't yet), the case was withdrawn.

I will keep standing up for myself.  And I will continue trying to assist others on the journey as being survivors of abuse, not victims.

There is a difference in my own behavior.  A change that I don't think the ex-husband ever expected. 

I found my courage.

I know my rights. 

I know what is unacceptable.

I want to make a difference in this world, exposing domestic violence every chance I get.

I survived.

But paid the price of the awful impression it left on my children--the tragic impression of domestic violence.

While teaching situational awareness and self-defense to daughters is practical, it must be paired with teaching sons accountability so the burden of preventing harm does not fall solely on potential victims.

It is so important to teach your sons not to abuse women and for the girls to know not to take the abuse - that they deserve better.

October is domestic violence awareness month.

Spread the word.

If you or someone you know is facing domestic abuse, confidential support is available 24/7 through the National Domestic Violence Hotline by calling 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or texting "START" to 88788.

Heritage Erased

The annual Essex County Jewish Heritage Celebration recognizes the positive impact and cultural contributions of Jewish residents to the economy and society of Essex county.  It is annually hosted by Essex County Executive Joseph N. DiVincenzo Jr. and the Essex County Board of County Commissioners. Initiated in 2013 by Commissioner Patricia Sebold, the Essex County Board of County Commissioners hosts a separate annual ceremony specifically highlighting grassroots activists, rabbis, and civic leaders. Recent honorees from their Jewish Heritage Month events include a local rabbi who demanded a domestic violence survivor’s silence and a woman who partipicipates, to this day, in erasing her children’s Jewish heritage.

Kerri Berson Levine, of Fidelco Realty, is guilty of elder abuse and gaslighting her own children.  

After requesting the criteria for how these recipients are chosen, neither Mr. DiVincenzo nor Ms. Sebold have ever replied.

The young lady who won the Jewish Heritage Award and has, so far, erased her children’s Jewish heritage on their Greenbaum side(my maiden name) is my daughter in law.  And those children are my grandchildren, whom she will not allow me to meet.

I am part of my grandchildren’s Jewish heritage.  I should not be erased.

Here is a letter I wrote Kerri Berson Levine, my daughter in law. It is only one of dozens written over the years. This particular letter was written after I was presented with a demand to remove my presence from all social media platforms and never share my history of domestic violence and abuse with anyone. I would not agree to that.  I know more than ever that abuse thrives in silence.  And my silence almost killed me years ago.

I was, as always, more than kind.There is never a reply.

​May 23, 2021

Hi, Kerri,

I hope all is well – or at least as well as can be during this pandemic.  I think of you, Jared, Chase and Lara always.  

There are not many days when you aren’t in my thoughts or prayers, and I am finally gathering my emotions to write to you at this time.  Chances are you will toss my letter in the trash without so much as reading a word, but what is life without taking chances? I hang on to the possibility that you may actually read my words. And feel what they try to convey.

I’d like to tell you how proud I am of you.  Over the last year, I have repeatedly seen your name and face in the local New Jersey media.  You are an amazing woman as you raise two young children, pursue a career, and still take on so many charitable causes. On so very many occasions, I have said I am beyond proud to have you as a daughter in law and the mother of my grandchildren. 

There’s an old expression called “wrapping up loose ends.”

Sometimes, it can bring you closure.

Sometimes, it allows you to confront something painful or hurtful, lightening its weight on your shoulders and in your heart.

And sometimes, it does both. 

I’ve thought so much about what I wish I could say to you – for too long.  All through the pandemic and even before that....All the days I’ve contemplated writing this, are turning into years.

Throughout my experience of writing, I’ve learned something invaluable.  When you write – the words/experiences can lose their power over you.  For me, writing also makes things easier to carry.

I’ve read various articles on your achievements and have even seen you being interviewed on the Steve Adubato show, New Jersey News 12.  I can’t help but look at you on the screen and wonder what my grandchildren look like.  I wish I knew – and I wish they knew me, too.

Just last week, I was invited to a ceremony on Zoom.  It was to award a local rabbi with the Jewish Heritage Award of Essex County, New Jersey.  An honor.  And all I could think about was how I read that you, Kerri, were a previous recipient of that award only 3 years ago.  An honor that encompasses so much irony. 

Your face is shown proudly on Essex County pages as you accepted the county’s award for Jewish Heritage.  I’m not quite sure what that award is for, though, as I had never heard of it before (and I pride myself on being active in our Essex County Jewish community).  I do not know you personally in order to speak your praises – all I do know is what I have read...and how you have treated me.

Through the last seven years, I have had faith in you and made excuses for you.  You see, I was married to someone who prohibited me from thinking on my own, being my own person, and who in many instances prohibited me from doing what was right according to circumstances within my grasp.  It has always haunted me – losing my voice for two decades.  I know only too well the influence a partner can have on one’s own judgement and decisions.

Lately, I’ve been thinking how my own silence has been deafening.  Thus, this letter.  I’m speaking up for two young souls...my grandchildren who are prohibited from even knowing I exist.

I’m positive your philanthropy regarding our Jewish faith has benefited many.  “Heritage” – a legacy.  It’s our past, our present and our future as Jews.  Our lineage.

And of course, here comes my predicament.  Dear, Kerri, I am your children’s Jewish heritage.  I am their grandmother.  And at 4 and 2 years of age, you will not let them even meet me.  I have never even been sent photos of my beloved grandchildren.  So what does that truly say about your stance for Jewish Heritage?  It leaves me rather perplexed.  

I have wondered what the mission statement is for the Jewish Heritage Award.  No one has been able to tell me.  Friends have even asked and searched for it.  I do not know what it includes, but I can bet it does not include selectively erasing any part of a child’s Jewish heritage.  Or anyone.

I can guarantee that you did not disclose our tragic situation nor history in truth.  My heart breaks over the parental alienation of my son, who has grown to be a man repeating a cycle of such alienation.  And unfortunately, you got pulled into its turmoil.  As did my grandchildren.  You have the power to make this generational curse stop if you break the cycle. 

Kerri, when you erase a part of my grandchildren’s heritage, you are essentially eliminating a great part of who they are.  I am a part of my son’s history, and am Chase’s and Lara’s.  Regarding my son – he knows how to reach me.  Regarding my grandchildren...until my last breath, I’ll be waiting for them to find me some day.  With all my heart, and with arms wide open.  They are all a piece of me.  That’s heritage.

I appeal to your sense of conscience.  Children deserve more love.  Not less.

Life only moves forward.  In it’s path, I have followed your wonderful volunteer work during the Covid pandemic.  All you have done for the essential workers in our hospitals and communities is to be applauded.  Outstanding work.

Last January, I observed you on New Jersey television discussing the program you installed to afford “young girls opportunities.”  You referred to a program you developed in Newark.  However, as you spoke of the necessity for allowing young girls to have various opportunities in life, the young girl that I brought to mind was Lara. 

My granddaughter.  My granddaughter who does not know I exist.  Because she was not afforded the opportunity to know me.  As I stared at the television screen, seeing your image, all I could do was wonder what my granddaughter looked like.

I haven’t been permitted to meet Lara nor see a photograph of her.  I do have a two-year-old text from Jared informing me that Lara looked exactly like me.  In hindsight it was part of the manipulation he orchestrated – but I wonder how true it could have been.  When I asked to see a photo of her, the conversation went dead until the demand to sign away my voice.

But I digress.... getting back to your television interview....You spoke of the importance of exposing young girls to various experiences – opportunities they should have.  I believe the goal was to empower these young girls whom you were referring to.  That is without doubt an integral and important endeavor.  Kudos to you for realizing that and trying to act upon it.

As you spoke, so many thoughts ran through my mind.  You must understand that the voices of young women everywhere matter and are vital to a healthy outlook and future.  You must realize that no one should be bullied into silence.  You must know that each and every girl owns her own truth and has the right to stand up and speak out about it.  Choices.  Not under control of others demands and opinions.  But knowing they have choices – that is their right.   

When I turned off your segment, I prayed for Lara.  May no one ever try to steal sweet Lara’s voice.  Please teach that to your own daughter.  Never let anyone try to bully her into silence.  Never let anyone attempt to manipulate her into removing all her presence on social media venues.  Teach her that no one should try to make her sign away her voice, her rights, her truth.  Don’t let anyone do to her...what her parents tried to do to me.

And may Lara always know her worth, her value, and her own heart without ever having to prove it to anyone else.

Those are wishes and prayers that should be afforded to young girls everywhere, as they are exposed to endless opportunities.  What someone may consider their ceiling, let these young women consider their floor.  

Kerri, you are a very strong role model for your daughter.  That is absolutely wonderful.  But you are also teaching her things that I don’t believe you are aware of.  By eliminating her chance to know her grandmother, you are sending a message of disconnection, judgement, even bullying and disregarding her God given right to have her loving grandmother in her life. 

As I watched your beautiful persona being interviewed by Mr. Adubato, I carefully listened to each and every word you spoke.  The importance for personal growth and exposure to different venues affords the young girls in your program “opportunities” that all young girls should experience.  It should not be looked at as something rare, but should be normalized.  What a wonderful world it would be.   

My granddaughter deserves opportunities that her own parents are not allowing her to have.  When you next speak of granting, awarding, sharing opportunities with young girls in your programs again...I ask you to look into your own daughter’s eyes and think of what you have taken from her, what opportunities she is not allowed.  I ask you to reflect on the mother I was to your husband as he was growing up...the memories he chooses to bury because I, too, have learned that the good memories can sometimes hurt our heart more than the unpleasant ones.

Well, I thought of these points many times over the last few weeks.  I can’t talk to you, but I can write.  Whether you are receptive or not, all I can do is try.  And hope.  I know that each day brings me closer to when my grandchildren will look for me.  I’ll be waiting.

And when you do grant opportunities to other young girls, remember your daughter deserves so much.  She deserves more love, not less.  And I pray she will know to be her own person, follow her own heart, do what is right (even when it’s not easy), and never let anyone bully her into silence. 

Some day, I hope you will afford your own children their heritage and opportunities that they are forbidden today.  It’s never too late.  As long as we have breath within us.

I pray every day for Jared’s awakening and healing.  That’s a tougher subject to conquer and I know it can’t be done alone.  I had set boundaries, and as soon as I saw that paper he demanded I sign – I saw that all my boundaries were disregarded.  

Thank you for reading this far.  This letter is not meant to place blame, but about what happens next.  It’s about Lara.  It’s about children.  It’s about all that we are and the next generation.

I know only too well that children do not learn by words alone, but by example. 

Stay well. 

Lovingly,

Julie

Read the article about Kerri’s Jewish Heritage Award here:

https://patch.com/new-jersey/belleville/essex-county-jewish-heritage-awards-honor-njit-prez-re-exec

What Grandparent Alienation Looks Like (it’s also child abuse)

​Here is a letter I sent my granddaughter Lara on her 5th birthday…3 years ago.

I have never met her. 

My adult alienated son and daughter-in-law have totally erased me.

They live only 30 minutes away from me.

I was told that this note along with the card went directly into the trash…because she can’t know I exist. 

My heart hurts.

—————————————-

Happy birthday to Lara

Dear Lara,

Happy happy happy birthday 🎈!
You don’t know me but I am your Daddy’s mommy.  And that makes me the very special honor of being your grandma.

I think you are 5 today. Wow! 

Although you have never met me, I am in your heart.
I’m in your smile and the twinkle in your eyes, too.  I am a part of you.
And I carry you in my heart each and every day.

Your Daddy, when he was 5, was the cutest five year old around.  He loved to play with trucks and cars, transformers, the match Game, Uno, dance and sing.  The dancing part was because I danced around a lot.  The singing part….because I loved music - but I have the worst singing voice in the world.
Ask him to sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”
He loved brownies, M & M’s ( the blue ones), pizza, pancakes, French toast and my ruggelah.

Your daddy was the best boy at 5.  And I imagine you are the most wonderful 5 year old girl.

I don’t know what you look like, but I know you have some of your grandma Julie in you.  I heard you like art.  I am an artist.  I wish I could see your artwork.  I bet it’s beautiful.  And art is so much fun.  Remember to always have fun.
I love you.

XXXOO,
Grandma Julie

9/11 and Foodirect

​There is a need to tell what happened, as much as a need some people have to bury it.

Many of us, if not all Americans, remember where we were on that horrific morning. I remember not only where I was at 8:46 AM… But I remember the days that followed, as they engulfed the tragedy. On 9/11, my 911 went out to Foodirect. 

Foodirect is the largest wholesale food distributor company In New York.  They carry a catalogue of over 3,500 products.  Beyond traditional meat and poultry warehouse fulfillment, they supply fresh produce, pantry staples, dairy, specialty items, beverages, paper products and cleaning supplies.  Foodirect operates out of a massive 72,900 square foot full-service distribution center in the Hunts Point Cooperative Market...following a $22.2 million expansion project (more about that later).  Foodirect is a family owned business.  And I was married to the owner.

We all have our terrible memories of where we were, what we were doing, when the twin towers were attacked. When our lives, our freedom and our beliefs were attacked by terrorists. At such crucial turns of history, Americans have choices to make – to come together, to support one another – or despicably, to turn the other way. The owner of Foodirect…he turned the other way.

How my then husband reacted to the terrorist attacks pretty much tells you a lot about a person. All that I have written about my story… Well, you shouldn’t be surprised. The owner of Foodirect  chose to not support his fellow Americans. He chose to continue business as usual. Not helping a single soul - Robert Levine was OK so that was all that mattered to him. Diagnosed as a person with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, he fit the description perfectly.

When someone is in need of help, a person with strong narcissistic traits responds based on how the situation impacts their own image and control.  Because they typically are incapable of empathy, they don't offer genuine, altruistic support.  Everything is transactional.

As much as we don't desire to live in the past, the past lives in each and every one of us to some extent.  And I remember that day, 25 years ago, clearly. 

I was in a friend's kitchen on September 11, 2001. I was housesitting a home in New Jersey, leaving my Greenwich, Connecticut apartment for a few days.

It was early morning, as I drank my coffee with the radio on. I heard the words that America heard. A plane had flown into one of the towers. Unheard of, I froze, looking out the window at the sky, which only miles away, was a weapon used by evil. My first thought was of my friend, whom I had just dropped off at Newark airport only hours ago. He had just flown to Amsterdam on business the night before. I had not heard from him since his expected arrival in Amsterdam. 

In a complete frenzy, I finally contacted him via phone, to hear his voice, and thank God he was OK. Then I turned my attention to the television. I was in shock along with the rest of the world.

I literally jumped into action - I respond well in times of crisis but change the aisle in the grocery store and I'm screwed.  I got on the phone to my lawyers in New York City who were helping me through my tedious divorce at the time. 

My representation through the divorce proceeding, which was underway already for 3 years at that time, was Raul Felder. His right-hand man in his law firm, Ken Goldstein, was not only my acting attorney, but a dear friend in my life.  I need to link this all together.... 

In 2001, I was still married to Robert Levine, with the divorce from hell well underway.  Foodirect was a marital asset… 

So, at the time of 9/11/2001, I was still married to Robert Levine. And the business of Foodirect was a marital asset, which I was entitled to half. Robert was always boasting that he owned the largest wholesale food distributorship in the Hunts Point Market of the Bronx - he sold thousands of items from food, paper goods, cleaning supplies to beverages. You can look it up on their website and see their inventory, which has not changed much since.

Hearing of this horrific tragedy, my immediate reaction was to get supplies, whatever possible, out to the workers and survivors at the World Trade Center. To get the workers food and supplies, along with Foodirect trucks to assist the volunteers, the rescuers the survivors… I wanted to get whatever they needed to them ASAP! 

Surely, the Foodirect trucks could be there to help and assist in the rescue and recovery. And all the cleaning supplies, paper goods, food!  Whatever they needed.

I phoned Raul Felder, telling him that I wanted to have food wrapped up and at the disposal of the city of New York.  I wanted all products sold by the company to be donated to the cause of rescue and recovery, clean up etc.

The comment I received was that it would never fly with Robert Levine. Mr. Felder knew who he was dealing with by that time. Everyone knew who Robert Levine was… And who he wasn’t. He wouldn’t give a person ice in the winter as the old expression goes. A true narcissist and business owner with unscrupulous tactics - the world revolved around him – – there wasn’t an ounce of giving in his body, unless he could use a situation – as he would only occasionally give unsellable foods to a shelter in order to get a tax write off… Only foods that were spoiled, past expiration dates or in broken or unsealed packages. 

I was persistent as I then spoke to Ken Goldstein, my other attorney. I insisted the business Foodirect was half mine. I wanted my part to be used to help our country. My half of the business was to do whatever Mayor Giuliani needed at the time. Mayor Guiliani was also a client of Mr. Felder's and we had met several times in Mr. Felder's Manhattan office.

Phonecalls were made by the attorneys.  All assistance was then denied by Robert Levine. Foodirect did not donate a morsel, nothing, not even a paper cup. Shame on him. Shame on his livelihood and all the luxuries he will continue to enjoy. Shame on what he taught my sons on that horrible day of 9/11. 

My 911 call to help New York was mocked by my then husband. He wouldn’t give anything to help our country. As I asked Mr. Felder to contact me or Giuliani on my behalf to see if we could override Robert's refusal and disgraceful attitude, I was told I would have to go through the courts, and get a judge to decide… And it would continue to be a tremendous battle with Mr. Levine.  His orchestration of legal abuse to drain me in court was already underway during my divorce proceedings.

The city was so overwhelmed. Our country was in a state of trauma, terror, and devastation. There was no time to begin another legal motion to get the necessary goods and services donated, against Mr. Levine‘s decision. Foodirect never got involved to help our country. Robert Levine continued to run his business as usual. Without a second thought as to what happened, only miles away from the Hunts Point Cooperative Market, only miles away from the warehouse of Foodirect. It was no sweat off his back as he liked to say. It was business as usual for him, on September 11, 2001. 

So now, as I look back, my heart is wrung dry. My sons are now working in the company. All that I tried to teach my sons throughout their childhood years with me may have been totally forgotten. 

Friends of Karen, helping families with children suffering with cancer, donating to buy an ambulance in Israel, Mogen David, midnight runs in soup kitchens… All that I did with them during their childhoods is most likely forgotten. 

Not long ago, I was watching the news on television when the company Foodirect was mentioned.  My divorce has been completed years ago, but Robert Levine never gave me the financial equivilent of half of the company in the divorce settlement.  He made so much disappear.  But when I heard the company on the news...I was surprised.

New York is a most forgiving state.  Governor Hochul gave Foodirect $1million in a donation toward their expansion!  With all the struggling businesses in the state of New York, businesses going bankrupt, owners losing everything....Hochul gave so much money to a company owned by affluent millionaires - my ex and my 2 sons who all live in the multimillion-dollar homes with luxuries most people only dream of.  Robert tells everyone he is "living large."

While the state documents the $1 million grant to Foodirect as a standardized infrastructure project for green energy and food logistics, it completely ignores the interpersonal and familial wealth behind the business. To the everyday citizen or a struggling business owner, seeing a company tied to multi-millionaires and highly influential real estate empires receive a massive taxpayer-funded handout feels incredibly unfair.

When New York needed Foodirect, no assistance was given.  And for the life of me...how does a business that doesn't need the money take it away from other livelihoods that are truly struggling in our economy?

Here's an article about it:

https://longisland.news12.com/2023/11/14/gov-hochul-1-million-granted-to-hunts-point-market-for-updates-renovations/4albg2BsEFSXYZh2AX023e

Ethics of the fathers “be on your guard with the ruling power, for they bring nowhere near to them except for their own interests; seeming to be friends such time as it is to their own advantage, they stand not with a man in the hour of need.” 

A Rabbi Walked in to a Chapter

​One of the emails in a folder I went through last night….was an email I sent to a Rabbi Kulwin of New Jersey after he tried to get me to sign a gag agreement (Agreement!) protecting my ex husband (which was written by his congregant Marc Berson * my son’s father in law)…..they demanded my silence. And threatened that I will never meet my grandchildren.

This agreement demanded my removal from all social media platforms FOREVER.

My ex husband and adult sons painted themselves as victims.  Something very common in narcissistic abuse.  Narcissists play the victim to escape accountability, protect a fragile ego, and twist the narrative so that they appear injured rather than the offender.  This behavior is a core manipulation strategy.  My blog and social media presence angered them. 

Toxic families don’t address what happened—they expect you to stay silent and move on.

Well, a victim’s silence is an abuser’s greatest asset.

I own everything that happened to me.

In 2019….the email below is what I wrote to Rabbi Kulwin.

Good morning. 

There is so much I would like to say to you - so much you never understood nor were told....
Rabbi Kulwin, you should never judge a situation by the chapter you came in on.  And that is what you did to me in this horrible mess....
I never told you how I have a police report where my 18 year old son hit me in the back so hard I was rendered breathless, knocked to the ground.  I have that report.  I never told you what initially motivated me to get out of a domestic violence hell (trying to remove my sons as well), after being called to pick up Jared from a police station for beating up a girl on the school bus (she needed stitches in her head). I have that report.  I never told you my son who instigated a physical altercation WITH A YOUNG WOMAN  when he was in his twenties, in a pizzeria...still pushing and shoving her in the restaurant parking lot.  I have that police report.  The officer told me that Jared's father got in touch with the young woman's mother and forced them to not press charges ($$$$) - it was purged.  But I have that police report, too.  And so many others.  Including the one where my son said he wanted to spend an afternoon with my dog, and would return him to me in said parking lot----but he never returned, He kidnapped my dog.  This was the 2nd dog his father killed.  Jared is probably unaware of the details.  My ex admitted it in a forensic psychologist report - he poisoned my first dog, Rudy.  And Rocky was most likely poisoned from materials in the basement where my ex kept him locked up when Jared was not home.  Animal abuse.  It's the tip of the domestic violence cycle I endured.  My son was not a child then.  There was no blog for anyone to blame things on.  These were just evil acts carried out by bad people.

I have a folder of police reports on both sons.  Stored away in a storage unit.  I don't care to look at them...until some day when I may have to.  They are with the literally hundreds of medical reports I have on my own injuries suffered through the years of DV.

So you walked in on the chapter where I finally began to speak out and wrote a blog.  I wrote out my pain.  I sent it out to the universe and it didnt feel so heavy anymore.....that for me was a life saver.  Unfortunately.